


The True History of Ceterus

by Haserot



Series: GrailQuest [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haserot/pseuds/Haserot
Summary: A brief summary of the history of Ceterus, whose written word was stricken from record by the jealous gods, and sworn to be kept by each Ma'al Drakar Tyr, as agreed upon by Kovich, the Living Mountain, and Tyorn, the First King of Man and Dragonslayer, as it was, in the first Age of Man





	The True History of Ceterus

**Author's Note:**

> im writing after work when i should be sleeping, please be forgiving of grammar and spelling and the shifting of point-of-view narrative... im exhausted like 24/7
> 
> this is basically the intro and pre-history of a story i'm going to be working on
> 
> right now i just want to expand this and put it somewhere so i can keep track of it in a coherent fashion and make it neato torpedo
> 
> haven't proofread just yet, just kind of free-writing to get the ideas out

It is the Age of Gods, in the Time Before Time, existence before creation. Primeval forces clashed as chaos reigned supreme. Ancient entities waged war against each other for supremacy. A great entity rose above all others and threatened to consume pre-creation. A group of young, powerful entities gather together in opposition of That Which Should Not Be, and in attempt to bring Order to Chaos, they declare absolute war. The battle is long and fierce and tears across Nonexistence, and the group of young entities are quickly overwhelmed. As the war tumbles across the Void, a lone star in the sky is engulfed in the conflict. Haserot, the Angel of the Morning Star, defends their ward, and with their great torch, and with haste, strikes down That Which Should Not Be.

From its blood is forged all of creation, and the life that springs forth from the primordial ooze is beastial and savage, truly, spawns of the great nightmare. From the burnt wound, the place purified by the flames of the Angel of the Golden Light, spring forth a simple and primitive beast, fearful and curious, and though quite unintentional, Haserot and the Nightmare had become the progenitors of man.

This is the First Age, the Age of Darkness.

For its deed in saving all of creation, the young entities declared Haserot to be the Light of Hope, and lifted them above creation, so that they may witness all of their glory from on high. The entities, however, decided that they would be known as gods in this new world, and lord over it, taking in the power of worship and feeding off the savage beasts that wormed their way through the new world. Despite their claimed desire for order, they quickly grew to revel in this newfound carnage, drawing strength from the blood of the primeval beasts. The first humans, however, were already on the verge of extinction. They had none of the strength or magic or claws of the beasts, being nothing more than cowering pests, no more than cattle to be gobbled up by the primeval creatures that ruled. Humans cowered about the legs of the gods, begging and praying for safety, for salvation, only to be kicked away. How dare these nasty creatures beg without shame? Better they were to die in obscurity than continue living that miserable life.

Haserot looked down upon all of creation, and saw the suffering of man. They, too, were the children of the greatest angel in all the heavens. In its anger, Haserot descended unto the new world, and its very presence burned the lands, boiled the seas, and scorched the skies. With but a step, Haserot shattered the land into four great continents. The primeval beasts scattered before the frightful appearance of the angel, and Haserot's wrath struck out at them. Humans, however, fled not from the Golden Light of Haserot, but flocked to it, and bowed before its might. Haserot lowered themself, and brought humanity the Gift of Fire from the Great Torch that Sheds Light Upon All Creation, and with it, Knowledge, Magic, and Hope. Haserot was kind to the beasts of man, and saw in them the greatness of a potential without limits, and feeling that these beasts will be the ones to truly bring order to the new world.

The gods, however, are not so impressed. They immediately feel the newfound sapience of these creatures and grow furious at Haserot, finding the angel being worshipped as the new saviour of humanity. The gods declare war once more, and it takes almost every last ounce of their strength eventually subdue the rebellious angel, and in a painful ritual, they seal away its essence in the newly created Land of Avalon, a prison wrapped in an eternity, far from the reaches of any physical being. Haserot's chains are mighty, and its protests begin to crumble away the edges of creation. The cruelty of the gods is revealed, for if Haserot were to forcefully free itself from Avalon, it would destroy that which it truly cherished.

They take the physical form of Haserot, and shatter it, scattering the pieces across the land where they rest at temples, already ancient by the war's end, places where man had first constructed shrines depicting the angel bringing fire. The gods then sequester these shrines into dangerous lands, forbidding mankind to visit the temples of their ancient history. As mankind grows in power, they begin to drive back the primeval beasts of old, which take refuge in the shadows of these forbidden lands, the stains of such treachery drawing them like moths to a dark flame. The gods retreat to the heavens, declaring that the world did not deserve their greatness, that their influence was too great for the likes of man. Each of them, in secret, truly know it is to escape their shame.

Haserot sinks into obscurity as the Age of Darkness slowly passes into the Age of Wyrms.

Dragons rise out of the darkness of this primitive world, and quickly rule land, sea, and skies with an unequaled tyranny. They have already existed for countless millennia, and believing themselves truly unable to die, begin to strike back at the hairless apes that dared declared the world their own. Against this endless assault, Mankind can no longer prosper and grow. The great dragon, Dranathar the Desolator, emerges from amongst the dragon hordes as the Absolute and Unequally Fierce Lord of Dragons, the Ma'al Drakar Tyr. His reign is terrible and destructive, and millions die in the flames of his supreme wrath. The gods flourish under the strength of the dragons, taking in the many lives that perish before the great wyrms. It is a glorious high, and they grow deaf to the prayers of man. Humanity is driven back, almost into oblivion, as the great dragonflight claim the great continent as their own. Left with no choice, the remnants of man scatter to the edges of the many Forbidden Lands, trapped between the flaming maw of dragons and the evils that live in the shadows.

Eons pass.

Mankind is reduced to a handful of tribes, scattered about the great continent. Tyorn is a mere blacksmith, his son, Fen, is a soldier of their tribe, sent out to scavenge for food and hunt, seeking hope for mankind and defending villages where he can. What little resources mankind has left is subject to petty wars and squabbles, rats fighting to rule the trash heap. Fen is foolhardy but true, and with the guidance of Tyorn's closest friend, Blackhawk, he might have one day truly become a great hero. Tyorn prays for deliverance, Tyorn prays for hope, Tyorn prays for his friend and son to return safely. He prays to the new gods, he prays to the old ones, he prays to anyone who would listen.

Blackhawk returns alone, heavily wounded, and tells the story of how Fen bravely perished defending a village, and had momentarily held off Dranathar the Desolator so that Blackhawk could escape. Presenting Tyorn with Fen's broken sword, Blackhawk expresses the deepest sorrow and gratitude, and promises him that as they drew breath, Blackhawk will be Tyorn's shield. Tyorn thanks his friend for his kind words and retreats to his home. Grief-fueled madness overtakes Tyorn, and and he refuses to eat, drink, or sleep, waiting for death to take him so that he may rejoin his son. Night and day, Tyorn wastes away, reforging Fen's sword over and over again, torturing himself, blaming himself for the death of his son. If only he had made the sword a little sharper, the armor a little tougher, held the boy a little closer. If only he had done more. In anguish, he cries out for anyone to listen to his prayers, and when none answer, he curses the gods, vowing that mankind will be their undoing, and collapses in exhaustion.

In his deepest dreams, he sees Fen once more. His son stands beyond his reach and tells him of a place in the dark forest, beyond where man dared to tread, and to seek an ancient shrine of an angel bearing a torch. There, he will find the strength necessary to avenge him and fulfill his vow. He reaches for his son and wakes upon the floor. Filled with fresh determination, Tyorn finishes the last reforging of Fen's blade, realizing it no longer resembles the original weapon. He renames the blade Pluck and Luck, after the determination of his son, and the hope that his journeys will end well, and sets off towards the dark forest. On the edge of the forest, Tyorn finds Blackhawk at his side once more, shield at the ready. Blackhawk is hesitant at first, thinking that Tyorn would sooner slay them for failing Fen, but is surprised to be embraced. Tyorn tells Blackhawk that today is the first day of the end of the Age of Wyrms.

The two ventured into the dark forest, a journey most treacherous. Many foul creatures attempt to draw the life from them, some mere tricksters, others, great terrors that would make even the dragons give second thought to entering the forests. After several weeks of struggle and failure, the two find the first shrine. Simple in design, the two take shelter within the roofless gazebo carved from marble, pulling the vines from the almost hidden structure. In the center, a marble statue of an angel of great beauty descends, lowering a mighty torch to the outstretched hands of early man, the flames of the torch forming a small dais into which the hands reach. A great light shone from the dais, from which, Tyorn retrieves the first piece of Golden Light. The two set camp in the safety of the shrine, and in their sleep, they receive a vision of the torch-wielding angel shining light towards the path to victory. More pieces of Golden Light existed in the land, scattered, across the world, and their journey was merely beginning.

Now charged with their holy quest, they set out to find the rest of the Golden Light.

They traveled south, and when they met the sea, they constructed a mighty ship, and sailed for six months, fighting off the leviathan that bragged of their mastery of the waves. The journey is incredibly taxing, and upon landing on the northern shores of Austerus, they rested for three weeks before beginning again. In the southernmost tip of the Austerus, they find the mage, Zaxas, who had stolen the secrets of magic from the great dracolich Ranatas, the Ravenous, who ruled the continent without equal. With the help of Zaxas, they escaped the clutches of the hordes of the undead and eventually find their way to a half-sunken shrine, where the Golden Light awaited the trio. In the safety of its light, they rested, and were once again enshrouded in the vision of the angel's guidance. Zaxas is fearful of the vision, and warned that the water here was deeper than it ever seemed. Upon waking, they continue on and find the entrance to a massive cave, whose maw was darker than the night sky. Deep into the cavernous depths, they trekked, far deeper than where man had ever dared to tread. Deep in the darkness, they encountered vile serpents which were drawn to and attempted to devour the Golden Light. Upon beheading the creature, two more heads grew in place. The trio battled heartily against the hydras and eventually emerged victorious.

They traveled for near on a year within the caves below the darkness, and eventually found their way to the surface, setting foot upon the new continent. Greeted by the rising sun in the east and the twinkling green of the Guiding Star, they dubbed the new continent Subsolanus. Going forth, they immediately were greeted by an endless sea of sand, and were greeted by Gildanis, a hermit mystic, gifted with a second sight.

Gildanis had received visions of the past, present, and possible futures, and learned of the treachery of the gods, and was already working to prepare for the arrival of the trio, crafting for them a sand skiff so they could hastily cross to the center of the desert. Deep in the obscurity of the white sands stood a great temple, half-buried in the desert. Within the darkest reaches of the temple, they found the shrine bearing the Golden Light, and retrieved it. The temple began to collapse and uncovered the healing waters of a deep spring, shooting them to the surface, and waking a mighty sand creature in the process. The many-legged beast called itself the behir, and drove the four adventurers from its home. In the safety of the night, the four received a new vision of the angel, showing the way north. Gildanis grew fearful of their quest, and begged Tyorn to rethink his journey, but to no avail. Tyorn's fearlessness and determination had taken them all this far, and not even the gods could stop him now. They crafted a ship from the trees that grew upon the shores of Subsolanus and traveled north, to the vast continent of Boreus.

In the endless and hostile frozen planes, they found Fjorn the Giant, finding shelter near his village from the great Kelvas of the Northern Wind. Upon seeing the small invaders, Fjorn immediately struck out, believing the party of four was a scouting party for a warring party of men to destroy the last home of the giants, and began to fight off the invaders. Their struggle was exhausting, lasting several days. It wasn't until the four heard Kelvas approaching the village, and abandoned the struggle to help push back the mighty ice wyrm, that Fjorn surrendered, seeing that they were of honorable intent. They shared a great feast that night, and Fjorn immediately made room in his heart for these small men, knowing that their sacred quest would benefit the world, man and giant alike. The giant led them to the sacred shrine far in the frozen north, frozen within a massive iceberg, and with a mighty swing, shattered the walls of ice, opening the way forward. Many of the creatures within the temple were frozen solid, and proved to be of no challenge, but the environment itself was deadly enough. They quickly made their way out upon retrieving the Golden Light, and returned to Fjorn's village. In the night, the five received a new vision, of the angel standing over the sea, lighting the way down into the depths below. In the morning, Fjorn promised his aide, and joined the party, helping them free their ship from a layer of frost.

After several days of travel with no real sign of their destination, the five grew restless, concerned that Tyorn's quest was beginning to fray at the edges. They gathered around Tyorn, expressing concern about his well-being, and what the consequences of their quest could be, or what the consequences for failure would incur. Tyorn reassured them, admitting that his own ignorance to the result of their machinations, but that his faith in his friends kept his hand steady in the face of the unknown. His words stirred in them, and they swore an oath to stand by his side for as long as they drew breath, to fight any threat to humanity for better or worse.

That night, the sea erupted in a horrendous storm, and a tremendous maelstrom opened, nearly a mile across, the maw of the sea swallowing the sky around them. Deep within the abyss of the swirling whirlpool, they saw the glimmer of Golden Light, and slowly descended down to collect it. They crashed their ship upon the ocean floor, and the group began repairs and pushed Tyorn to retrieve the light before the maelstrom collapsed. Tyorn made his way to an ancient ship bearing a cracked marble shrine. This statue was different than the ones that they had previously seen. The angel was now in great bronze chains, its wings torn, and torch extinguished, arms stretched up to the grasping hands of humanity, reaching down to lift the angel from its slab. The Golden Light twinkled from within the recesses of the angel's heart.

A tear shed down Tyorn's face as he struck at the statue and retrieved the Golden Light, promising himself not to tell his already concerned fellowship of what he had seen. Eventually, the maelstrom began to subside, and their ship rose upon the tumultuous waves to the surface once more, and they sailed west to the home of Tyorn and Blackhawk. In the night, Tyorn reflected over the five pieces of golden light within his cabin. Struck by inspiration, he began forging them into a golden grail. Looking at the grail, it seemed simple in design, yet true, and infallible, yet the Golden Light no longer radiated from the object, and Tyorn grew concerned that he may have damned their quest. They made landfall, and their crew set about making this place their new home, and they named it Terminus. As they settled, Tyorn confessed his act to the group, and they grew disheartened, but promised that they would remain by his side.

At dawn's light, the grail erupted into a beacon of pure divine energy of the Golden Light, visible throughout the entire land, and a sparkling white liquid began to fill the grail. The party gathered and universally agreed that Tyorn, whose faith in them never faltered, whose wisdom and guidance brought them together and kept them alive, whose efforts unrivaled resulted in the creation of the grail, should be the first to accept its glory. Upon drinking it, the grail's light faded once more, and Tyorn became infused with divine energy. With newfound hope, the five knights set out to slay Dranathar the Desolator, the Ma’al Drakar Tyr of his age, and truly bring an end to the Age of Dragons.

Dranathar was not amused by the party of insolent beings that had gathered before him in his stolen castle, and with a mighty roar, he spat his foul dragon's breath at the group. With Blackhawk's shield, Fjorn's strength, Zaxas' magic, Gildanis' healing, and Tyorn's divine blade, the dragon was eventually felled. As Dranathar fell, a thunder of dragons collected to witness the atrocity committed, seeing the five standing around the corpse of their brethren. Tyorn, thinking quickly, raised his holy blade of Pluck and Luck, still dripping with the wretched blood of Dranathar, and declared that dragons were truly as mortal as the men they preyed upon, and that man would no longer cower before them. Dranathar would be the first of many to fall to mankind's perseverance.

Without question, Tyorn was eventually crowned as the First King of Man, and sent messengers across the land to tell the great tale of the dawn of the Age of Man. The gods, witnessing all of this unfolding before them, grew wary, and performed a terrible act of interference to cement their place in the new age. Unto Tyorn, two strangers appeared, garbed in golden garments. They declared themselves as the Witness and the Scribe, and before him, performed the Great Sundering of Knowledge. The Witness, in the passing of the night, took up all written knowledge relating to the ancient angel and the God’s failure to act in mankind’s struggle, and the Scribe rewrote the written record proclaiming how the gods single-handedly passed the Grail unto Tyorn and directly aided him in slaying Dranathar the Desolator. Furious, Tyorn struck down the Witness as the Scribe fled back to the heavens, and had his knights scatter his golden remains across the lands.

Tyorn rule lasted for one hundred, bitter, angry, and weary years, the true knowledge that the accomplishments and struggles of his brotherhood were rewritten to a spoon-fed victory from the gods eating away at him. Any attempt to retell the story is met with laughter and mockery, for no man could have slain a dragon without the strength of the gods. Before the century passes, he hears that the title of Ma’al Drakar Tyr has passed to Kovich, the Living Mountain. Tyorn visits the great wyrm in his final days as king.

Wearing the armaments of his fallen brethren, he stands before the Living Mountain, a lone dragonslayer. Kovich demands that the First King explain his presence. Tyorn tells the Living Mountain of the true tale of the Felling of Dranathar, the struggles of the five knights, of the sacred shrines at the ends of the earth, and of the visions of the angel who guided them. In his bitterness against the gods who abandoned him and how they stole the fruits of his labors, and finally, he begs for Kovich to pass the tale down as dragons are well-known to be master storytellers, and keepers of great and terrible knowledge.

Kovich hesitantly agrees, and offers Tyorn a bitter arrangement, that all future kings of man must offer their firstborn unto the dragons, as Tyorn unwillingly did, (as well as a sizable stack of gold), so that that all future kings be taught the humility of mortality, as Tyorn had viciously taught the dragons. In return, the dragons will keep the Truth of Tyorn from the wrath of the Gods, and a tentative peace is kept between the race of man and the race of wyrms.

Eventually, the century passes, and Tyorn is still as young as he was in early days as king. The barrier between planes thins, and the Grail flares to life, its beacon of divine light seen throughout the entire land. Tyorn passes the Grail to his second son, who drinks of the cup of eternal life, and takes the crown of the first king from his father.

Eons pass, and Tyorn the Dragonslayer, First King of Man, passes into obscurity, hiding amongst the common folk and retreating to the mountain of Horadus. He witnesses the growth of his country and its eventual isolation as the continents continue to spread, and before long, it is almost impossible for even the heartiest of sailors to travel between them. He witnesses its rises and falls as the crown is passed from generation to generation, some more wise than others. He watches as the dragons are hunted and scattered, their mighty dragonflight now a mere spattering of wyrms. He watches as civil war breaks out, the people lacking faith in the royal family. He watches as his descendents build the colosseum, agreeing that the grail was not meant to belong to a single group. His craft is now the prize of centennial tournaments, and the threats of civil war subside as the people's bloodlust is satiated in the rings of the colosseum, and Ceterus becomes united once more. Every thousand years or so, Tyorn makes his journey to greet the new Ma'al Drakar Tyr, and remind them of their duty and promise to mankind, and has his story retold to him. He has heard it so many times, but it never fails to comfort him to have the names of his loved ones said once more. Fen. Blackhawk. Zaxas. Gildanis. Fjorn. Every day he writes the name of the angel in changes, only to watch it vanish before his eyes. Haserot. It whispers to him at the back of his deepest nightmares.

This is the Age of Man, the Third Age.

Malathos of the Ashen Wing is the new Ma'al Drakar Tyr. His reign is absolute and terrible, though he remains dormant in his volcanic island. Any who question his legitimacy as lord of dragons, be they wyrm or otherwise, are stricken down in a fiery death. He is the essence of a fiery death.

The lineage of Tyorn now ends with Anzel, the High King, Teritas, the Queen on High, and their spawn;

Anriel, the Crown Prince, Aratas, the princess, and Ner’ran, an illegitimate daughter born unto the king from a commoner, but a single day after Anriel. Anzel committed a minor treachery against the dragons for the love of his son, Anriel, and had Ner’ran, sent to Malathos to die in place of her half brother. A small act, but the thought of its discovery greatly agitated King Anzel.

Malathos is enraged by the blatant disrespect from the high king, not at the deception, but at the lack of sacrifice. Unbeknownst to the kingdom of man, Ner'ran is missing, and the gold almost nonexistent. After a year of no recompense from the king, Malathos burns the cities Jaedus, Tenorus, and Tolmus to the ground in a fit of rage.

King Anzel, however, believes that Malathos has discovered his treachery and seeks to end the dragon before his wrath destroys the kingdom of man. As the dawn of the new century arrives, he offers a drink from the Holy Grail as prize for slaying Malathos of the Ashen Wing, instead of prize for the centennial colosseum tournament.

MEANWHILE

Ennio Gildanis has felt the influence of foul forces at work, and summoned to her aide one Tristan Blackhawk to fight off an evil in the town of Cabalus. Her city, freshly cleansed of a foul group of insurrectionists, has opened its gates once more, only to have to receive refugees from the burnt cities.

Tristan, now on the verge of returning after a year of travel, is conflicted. Should he return home to see after the affairs of his half-brother, Mesron, who had stopped responding to his letters, or should he turn and face the threat of the dragon, as his ancestor had, knowing full well he might never return? Mesron, however, has become corrupted by the influence of a mysterious robed figure, who seems to be experimenting with creating a new form of life. Mesron has declared his brother dead, taking up the noble lordship and turning it into a tyranny of his own, even going as far as to install demonic influences to run nearby cities.

Nardox the Undying has begun to gather his undead forces, no longer content to watch his ancestor's land be torn apart by the incompetence of mortal men, debating on marching on Ceterus and taking the crown for himself.

The Norn of the North, has his own problems, as Gelidas, the Winter's Wrath, has taken action on Malathos' initiative and has begun to strike out at the giant tribes, spreading the reach of the frozen plains. Gelidas is a mere five hundred years old compared to the ancient Malathos who has been the Ma'al Drakar Tyr for over a thousand years.

Now the kingdom is in uproar, hordes of warriors and self-proclaimed dragonslayers racing across the continent to die at the flames of Malathos, all for the promise of immortality. Meanwhile, a nefarious influence works from the shadows between worlds, and seeks to undo the reign of man, slay the dragons, spite the gods, and bring about the End of Ages, truly becoming Death Victorious.


End file.
